Free Cult of Crime by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

They made you pay by the day, which would make my money run out quicker, but I was going to get a job. There are a lot of acting jobs in New York. I think I’d make a good actress, don’t you?
    “I would have, too,” Holly continued without waiting for Joe to answer. “Every day for a week, I went out and looked for a job. But there were lots of other girls looking, too. I never got to prove myself. It was awful. And I always had this feeling I was being watched, like someone was waiting to get me. “The first time I noticed any of the Rajah’s people, they were dancing outside my hotel. I guess that was three or four days after I got there. They seemed so happy and … and loving. And loved. It made me think of everything I wanted and never had. They were a family.
    “One day I came back to my room and found I’d been robbed. I’d hidden my money, but it was gone. All of it. So I complained to the manager, and she accused me of trying to get out of paying the rent. She took all my stuff and threw me out. On the street! Where was I supposed to go? All I could do was cry and cry and cry.
    “Then he was there.
    “He brushed away my tears and called me little sister and told me there was always a place for me among his children. He said that with him, I would be free and safe.
    “And I knew I was home.
    “I spent the night in the Rajah’s center in Manhattan. The next morning, a Rolls-Royce arrived-for me. It was the Rajah’s, too. He was there to escort me personally to the commune. The others said that marked me as a special follower, and I was. I knew I was.
    “For the first time in my life, I felt special and loved. The Rajah treated me like a princess. To this day, I don’t know why he did it. But I know I’ll always love him.”
    “Joe?” Holly whispered, but he was asleep. His head bobbed as the train rumbled along, but his eyes didn’t open. With her soft, droning voice, she had stopped him when all the Rajah’s agents couldn’t.
    Holly smiled and peered out the door of the boxcar. The train slowed as it neared a railroad yard. They weren’t in Bayport, she knew, but they were close enough. It was another of the look-alike, semi-industrial, semi rural towns that dotted the banks of the Hudson River. The sweet country smell of the upstate air had been replaced by the odor of sulfur and exhaust.
    Holly had hoped she would never see a city again, but there she was.
    Joe mumbled, startling her. She watched him carefully to make sure he was still asleep. He murmured something else and rolled onto his side.
    Holly studied the empty car, as she had studied it every minute of the long trip. There was nothing in it but Joe and her. She chewed on her lip.
    There’s got to be something here I can use, she thought.
    Her eyes lit up, and she moved quickly to one of the doors. It slid shut easily, and much more quietly than she expected. On the door was a metal bar, a support used to keep the door closed.
    She grabbed the bar and twisted it. It refused to come loose. Joe rolled onto his stomach.
    The train was pulling to a stop. Holly knew the jolt of that final stop would jar Joe awake. She had to work fast.
    But the metal bar wouldn’t cooperate. Holly braced herself against the door and twisted again.
    The bar moved slightly. It was old, and the bolts holding it to the door were loose.
    She closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and wedged her hip between the door and the bar. Holding the bar in place with her hands, she threw her weight against the bar. The wood of the door cracked, then splintered.
    Joe grumbled at the noise and shook his head, but his eyes stayed closed.
    At that moment, the bar broke off in Holly’s hands. Catching her breath, she stood over Joe and with both hands raised the bar high over her head. “Goodbye, Joe,” she said. With all her might, she swung the bar down.

Chapter 12
    SOMETHING WRAPPED AROUND Holly’s ankle and shoved it forward. As she fell back, she tried to scream,